Gentlemen Prefer Blondies

Flashy Blondies
As a brunette, I'd always get a bit miffed when I'd hear the phrase, "Gentlemen prefer blondes." Or, the famous, "Blondes have more fun." Who could measure something like that, I'd wonder, and of course, as a brunette, I knew it was just hogwash. Any man with common sense could clearly see that brunettes were the better choice.

One college semester, I wound up in a film studies class and although I was quite a Hitchcock buff, until then, I'd never even heard of the Hitchcock Blondes. But there it was, clear as day--each film had the leading blonde, each one different--some platinum, some golden--but all the same--cool and dangerous. When asked in an interview why he always chose the blondes, Hitchcock replied that he liked the tension between the cool exterior and the fire beneath. In other words, where men where concerned, these women were cool and aloof on the outside, but once a man got through the exterior, it was all fire and passion underneath.

Well, gentlemen, if you're looking for a fiery partner for your taste buds to tango with, meet my Blondie.


2 sticks of unsalted butter, melted
2 cups of dark brown sugar, firmly packed
2 jumbo eggs
2 cups all purpose flour
1 T vanilla bean paste
pinch of salt
Butterscotch chips
Chopped semi-sweet chocolate (or chips)
Toasted pecans (or toasted walnuts)

In a bowl, mix brown sugar and melted butter together until well blended. Add eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Beat in vanilla and salt. Stir in flour, then mix in butterscotch chips, semi-sweet chocolate and nuts. I'm not giving specific measurements, because I like to use a lot. The rule here, show no restraint when adding in the delicious goodies.

Bake at 350ยบ until edges are golden and center is set. A good tip, always err on the side of under baking your bars for that gooey center.


I recommend that you rent Hitchcocks' Vertigo for these bars. Vertigo is about a former San Francisco police detective, Scottie Ferguson, who is asked by an old friend to track the friend's supposedly suicidal wife. Ferguson watches helplessly, when the wife apparently jumps into the San Francisco Bay and blames himself for her demise because he was unable to follow her, or save her, due to his vertigo. Later, he crosses paths with a woman who looks just like the dead wife and Ferguson winds up becoming a pawn in a dangerous thriller.

One thing is for sure, these blondies are so good, they'll leave you with a case of vertigo, too, so better eat them while lying on the sofa.


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